


A Little Pink One

by Inkribbon796



Series: Darkstache Week 2020 [2]
Category: Markiplier fandom - Fandom
Genre: Amnesia, Darkstache Week 2020, M/M, Madness, Project Darkstache 2020, anniversary fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23941078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkribbon796/pseuds/Inkribbon796
Summary: This is part of a tumblr Darkstache Week 2020 that I am doing, just posting up here too.Day 2: (Flowers) Madness is a theme that haunts the Manor, and usually it’s Wilford who fills that siren call of the Void but every once in a while Dark has his moments where he’s a little less demon and more of . . . well not himself.
Relationships: Damien | The Mayor/Wilford Warfstache | William J. Barnum | The Colonel, Darkiplier/Wilford Warfstache, darkstache
Series: Darkstache Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725754
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	A Little Pink One

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Damien, which it’s the 1 year anniversary of “Damien”.

Today was already an odd day. Usually, on a normal day, King and Iplier were up first. Iplier because his shifts were usually early in the morning so he could tend to the Host’s injuries later on in the day. Google was up next, followed by Dark who was usually awake first but it took some time to show his face around the other Egos.

Today was different. Mostly because when Iplier walked down he found that there was an unexpected draft. Thankfully because of the spring air it wasn’t too bad, but when he found that all the downstairs windows and doors were all open, the doctor got concerned. Even more so by the pool of blood on the ground under the balcony to the second floor landing.

“Doc, where’s Wil?” King shouted as he ran in.

“Did he open everything?” Iplier asked, getting more and more worried as he looked around. “I’ll go get Dark.”

“No,” King cautioned, motioning for the Doctor to follow him. “It’s Dark, he’s outside.”

“What’s  _ he _ doing outside?” Iplier was already following King, pausing a bit as King led him into the woods.

“Celine!” Dark’s voice called out into the woods, his voice echoing off every tree.

The two egos got lost, literally slamming into Wil who was calmly strolling through the woods.

“There you are!” Iplier shouted. “What did you do?”

“What’da ya mean? Wilford slurred, looking confused.

“The house is a mess, and Dark is out here screaming like a maniac,” Iplier listed off.

Wil, whether he was purposefully oblivious or honestly distracted, he bent down and picked a pink flower off the ground. “Oooh, what pretty little thing.”

Iplier glared at him, “Did you hear a word I said?”

“Phish posh,” Wil dismissed, starting to pick the five-petalled pink flowers and assemble them into a simple but elegant bouquet. “I’m going to bring these little things to Darky.”

The Doctor felt like slamming his head on a tree, he turned to look at King, “Go get the Host.”

King ran off and Dr. Iplier stayed with Wil, the reporter picking the flowers until he had a bouquet of them, using the long stems to hold them all together.

As they walked Iplier realized how cold it felt, almost like the late spring was instead turning into the dead of winter. “Wil?” Iplier tried to interrupt Wil’s chatting, “we need to find Dark, it’s getting cold.”

“I know exactly where he is,” Wil promised. “Come on, I know a shortcut.”

He tugged Iplier off in a random direction, wandering further into the forest.

Damien was hopelessly lost in the woods again, a feeling of urgency clawing at his soul. “Celine!” He screamed out, desperate to find her. It was getting cold, and a badass attitude and a hunting rifle could only keep you so warm.

It was so cold, Damien felt freezing cold, his teeth were chattering. “Celine! Where the devil are you‽ It’s fucking cold out here!”

His chest hurt, like something was twisting and constricting his heart. “Celine!”

“Dark?”

“Celine!” Damien called out. “Where are you?”

A hand lightly touched Damien’s shoulder, “Dark, are you okay? I’ve never seen you this out of sorts. Are you okay old sport?”

“Wil, I don’t have time for this!” Damien slapped William’s hand away. He turned around and something was wrong with William. He was dressed more than a little strange. “What— . . . What did you do to your mustache?”

William looked confused, scrunching up his nose and upper lip, pointing to the bright pink curled mustache. “My mustache has always been like this.”

Then he shook his head and held up a bouquet of pink flowers. “For you, my dear, I saw them and thought of you.”

Damien had a thousand conflicting thoughts buzzing through his head. That it wasn’t proper for William to give him flowers, that someone would see them like. That when someone saw the flowers both his and Wil’s careers would be over, if they were lucky that would be all they would lose. Celine was still out there . . . but they were such little, silly things . . . they . . .

Dark shook his head, confused and started. He looked down at the axe in his hand. “Wilford, where am I?”

The reporter looked more than a little concerned for a second before he gave Dark a huge smile. “Well, I don’t know, Darky, but I brought you these flowers. Aren’t they nice?”

Delicately Dark took them and to his amazement the color held up against his aura, his aura trying to strip all the colors and devour them, but especially the pink color stubbornly stayed as bright and vibrant as before.

It hauntingly reminded Dark about something, Dark gently turned the bouquet around so he could inspect the flowers.

“Thank you,” Dark told him. The two exchanging a kiss.

Dark pulled around, only then realizing that Iplier was standing there. “Doctor, how long have you been there?”

Iplier looked like he was deciding what to say for a bit, shaking a bit from the cold, “Why don’t we get home? You two can talk there.”

Wil rolled his eyes, clapping his hands and they were standing in the entrance hall of the Manor, Iplier looking disorientated. “Hoo boy, is it drafty in here or what?”

Dark snapped his fingers and the Manor began to right itself, walking towards the stairs, “Well if the party’s over, I’m going back to work.”

Wil smiled, practically spinning on the spot. “Work on what? Can I help?”

Dark rolled his eyes, gesturing to the reporter with the bouquet, starting to walk up the stairs, “If you’re quiet and you let me work.”

There was a twinkle in Wil’s eyes, he gestured to himself, “What sort of ruffian do you take me for?”

One of Dark’s eyebrows arched up before he kept walking up the stairs, Wilford slowly following him, hands clasped behind his back, still smiling. The Manor righted in its twisted glory once again.


End file.
